


Drabble Me Collection 1

by Maybethings



Series: May Be Promptin' [153]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 19:25:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maybethings/pseuds/Maybethings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of prompts based off the '[letter of the alphabet] Me' prompt challenges.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Get Me - Warden/Sten

He closes his eyes, preferring the darkness behind the lids to that of his own heart, the dim and vexing half-light of the dungeon. In this way he falls in and out of sleep, dreaming of Alistair dead and Zevran’s face and Sten’s broad shoulders, and the baying of his hound growing louder and louder until…

He opens his eyes to an almighty din, and there’s his Barry, scrabbling to get through the bars at his master and barking loud enough to alert all the guards in Fort Drakon. But judging from the way the large man at his side calmly strides forward, nobody else is going to be coming.

“The irony of this situation does not escape me,” Sten says dryly, one mailed fist knocking the iron bars.

“I think I could just kiss you right now, big guy,” Phil says with a watery smile, voice cracking twenty different ways.

“Talk later.” The pilfered key turns and the lock springs, and just like Riordan says, it’s the purest, sweetest note metal has ever wrought. “And rouse the other Warden in the corner. I am not sure how your dog got us through the guards, but it will not happen again.”


	2. Paint Me - Merrill, Isabela

It’s just a few smudges and swoops of ink, even now bleeding gently into the paper. Not very pretty. But somehow the little elf has captured the essence of Isabela in just a few lines: a sailor on dry land, tall and strong with wild, streaming hair, boots past the knee and daggers up and out. Her bandanna is sea-blue, her daggers and jewelry buttercup-gold.

“Do you like it?” Merrill asks hopefully, and receives a joyous half-hug in return.

“Kitten, you’ll have to keep this very carefully, or I might just steal it in your sleep.”

“Oh, you don’t have to steal it. It’s for you!”

“You’re a good girl, Merrill. But you take all the fun out of a good late-night break-in.”


	3. Value Me - Hawke/Merrill

“Do you regret,” Byrne asks his lover, “that I’m not an elf?”

“Sometimes,” says Merrill, trying not to look at him wince. “But you know, if you were, you wouldn’t be Hawke. And I’m very fond of Hawke the way he is. The way you are, I mean.” She reaches a slim hand up to trace the sharp sickle of his eyebrow, red bristles against the warm brown skin. “Don’t change a thing on my account,  _vhenan_. You are what you are, and that’s enough for me.”

“Dashing? Serene? Powerful? Possessing excellent taste in women?”

“All of that.” She giggles as she kisses the sharp ridge of his nose. “Especially the last bit.”

His response is to kiss back, gently, with lips that taste of lyrium and elfroot and the evening’s ale. In these precious moments alone, Hawke prefers to let actions speak louder than words.


End file.
